


You're Only As Sick As Your Secrets

by hell0lust



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Sobriety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hell0lust/pseuds/hell0lust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick had no idea what had led him to the small meeting room in a non-descript church on the bad side of town. He had no idea what had compelled him to even look up the nearest Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and yet here he was. Having hit what can only be described as a 'new low', Rick reluctantly attends an AA meeting. AKA Rick gets sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am obsessed with the idea of Rick trying to get sober. As someone who has spent a lot of time attending AA meetings (either court-ordered or to support friends in recovery), I'm curious to how Rick would react to a 12-step program, and what his story would be as he worked the steps (if he actually attempted to work the program.) "You're only as sick as your secrets" is one of the most frequently heard adages of AA that I've encountered, and I feel like it fits Rick perfectly; he is a man who certainly has his share of secrets, which are slowly killing him. I'm hell0lust on tumblr... let's be friends!

**_‘You’re only as sick as your secrets.’_**  
  
Rick knew all too well the truth behind that sentiment. After all, he _was_ sick. _Way_ sick. For all he knew, he’d probably been born that way. And he _certainly_ had more than his fair share of dark secrets buried deep inside him, kept under wraps by whatever drugs and booze he could get his hands on.  
  
Rick had no idea what had led him to the small meeting room in a non-descript church on the bad side of town. He’d been off-planet for over two weeks, and had been on a steady diet of alien liquor and collaxion crystal for that entire time. He vaguely recalled a long weekend spent with Unity, though he’d somehow fucked that up, as he always did. _You were too drunk. Une always hated that. Sure they like to party, but never to the extent you like to._  
  
After being ditched by Unity, he’d bar-hopped across the galaxy, going home with anyone who could offer him more k-lax and a warm bed to sleep in. _What are you a crack head, fucking anyone to get your fix, you sick-_ Rick shook his head, banishing the thought. He’d bottomed out at a rat-hole tavern on planet Squanch, passing out in a puddle of his own vomit. _Like you’ve done a million fucking times before_. He’d woken up to Squanchy shaking him by the shoulders, not so subtly suggesting that he go home and ‘dry out’ a little. _As if that phrase is even in my vocabulary_. Admittedly, it had been a good number of years since he’d gone on a bender of this caliber, and he could understand why even Squanchy was a bit taken aback by the state he was in. Rick sighed, staring at his reflection in the glass pane of the door. _You look like hell, Sanchez._ Dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes. There also appeared to be several bruises along his jawline. _I don’t remember picking any fights... Though I wouldn’t be surprised._  
  
For years, Rick had told himself that he didn’t need any of it; the drugs, the drinking, the anonymous sex. He’d long since stopped trying to delude himself. Rick knew that he needed it all, in the worst way. _Hard to pretend that you quit any time when you’re chugging a bottle of rubbing alcohol, because there’s nothing else in sight and you’re coming down off a nasty drinking binge._  
  
He’d tried several times over the years to stop drinking, with minimal success. The last time he’d successfully managed to maintain more than a week of sobriety he’d been in his early twenties. Usually, he could only white-knuckle forty-eight hours, tops.  
  
He peered into the meeting room, still undecided as to whether or not to enter. _Something_ had struck a chord in him, convincing him to come here. _Maybe you’re just tired of running away-_ Rick frowned, silencing the thoughts echoing in his brain. Regardless of _what_ had compelled him to look up the nearest AA meeting, the fact remained that he was, in fact, there.  
  
Taking a deep breath for courage, Rick entered the room where about a dozen men and women sat on fold-up chairs in a circle. Self-consciously, Rick lowered himself into the nearest empty chair, averting his eyes to the floor. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke wafted in the air. Carefully, Rick rummaged through his lab coat pockets, producing a rumpled pack of Marlboros and a lighter. With a gentle flick of his wrist, he lit up, taking a deep drag off his cigarette. He exhaled, savoring the initial rush of nicotine.  
  
“Alright everyone, let’s get started,” a pleasant looking man in his late forties announced, clapping his hands together.  
  
Rick watched the man intently, his pulse pounding nervously. _Still not too late to back out. It’s early, but the liquor store is open already and-_  
  
"Good morning, everyone. I’m Mike, and I’m an alcoholic. Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous, a worldwide fellowship of men and women who help each other to stay sober. This is a closed meeting,you are welcome to stay if you have a desire to quit drinking. If you have had a drink in the last 24 hours, we ask that you only listen during the meeting,” the man started, drawing Rick’s attention.  
  
_At least I won’t have to talk_ , he thought, slightly relieved.  
  
“I will now read the preamble,” Mike continued, glancing around the circle.  
  
Rick glanced around the room, curious to see what type of people frequented 10am AA meetings.  
  
_“Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism...”_  
  
To his right sat a young blonde girl who couldn’t be older than twenty, her arms decorated with vibrantly colored tattoos. To his left, a thirty-something year old brunette dressed in a black power suit, a pearl necklace decorating her pale cleavage. Across from him sat two men in their thirties or forties, both dressed in flannel shirts and work boots. _Probably work construction._  
  
_“The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for A.A. membership; we are self-supporting through our own contributions...”_  
  
Beside the blonde girl sat a boy that _had_ to be a teenager, long black hair hanging in front of his face. _Jesus, they start young... Though I’m one to talk, aren’t I?_ Beside the boy sat a man with white hair, dressed in a suit. Beside him, an older woman, dressed in a housecoat.  
  
_“ A.A. is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics,organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy; neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety,”_ Mike concluded, folding his hands in his lap.  
  
Rick lit a fresh cigarette, extinguishing his first in the ashtray placed on the card table directly behind him.  
  
“Is there anyone who is here for their first AA meeting? Please introduce yourself by your first name only. We want to welcome you now,” Mike continued, his gaze settled on Rick.  
  
“Yeah, I’m... This is my first meeting,” Rick mumbled, lowering his head.  
  
Mike nodded to Rick, offering him an encouraging smile. “Welcome. Why don’t you get us started with introductions-”  
  
“Rick. My name is Rick,” Rick offered, taking another drag of his cigarette.  
  
“Alright Rick, go ahead,” the man continued, smiling encouragingly.  
  
Rick took a deep breath, his heart pounding nervously in his chest. _Are you really going to do this? Have you really hit rock bottom?_  
  
“My name is R-Rick and I’m-I’m an alcoholic.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick considers the possibility that he is, in fact, powerless over his addiction.

Rick sat stiffly in his chair, listening as other attendees of the meeting shared their story.  
  
The blonde to his right cleared her throat, gathering the group’s attention. “I’m Nicole. I’m an alcoholic. I have something that I’d like to get off of my chest.”  
  
“Hi Nicole,” Rick repeated in unison with the rest of the group, waiting for her to begin.  
  
“Recently, I’ve begun to work my fourth step and...” she paused, taking a deep breath. “As most of you know, the fourth step includes making a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. One of the questions my sponsor asked me to think about was what I am most ashamed of in my life. I’ve... I’ve spent some time thinking it over, and I would like to share that.”  
  
Mike, the group leader, nodded encouragingly in her direction. “Please share with us, Nicole,” he offered, smiling.  
  
Nicole nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “When I was eighteen, I was really bad on cocaine. I dropped out of school, my parents kicked me out of the house... I was living on the street. I was whoring myself out to get my fix. I knew a couple of other girls who were working the same part of town as me, and we would go out sometimes when we had a few extra bucks, get trashed on double vodkas. So one night, we were out late, and this one girl Connie and I decided to go out and score. I was never really into H, but she was so I went along with it and agreed to shoot up speed-balls with her,” she paused, biting her lip.  
  
“She shot up and...and I knew something was wrong. Her lips were blue and she started convulsing. I should have done something, should have gotten her help. But all I could think about was that she had money on her and that I could go get more cocaine with it. So I took her money and left her there to die,” she concluded, choking back a sob. “That’s... That’s the thing I’ve done that I’m most ashamed of.”  
  
Rick observed the rest of the group, who showed no shock or reaction to the girl’s confession.  
  
“Thank you for sharing with us, Nicole,” Mike said finally, averting the group’s attention. “Would anyone else like to share something with the group?”

* * *

Rick rose to his feet as Mike called the meeting to an end, unsure of what to do next. The two construction workers waved goodbye as they made their way to the door, apparently heading to work. The blonde girl, Nicole, and the teen boy appeared to be engrossed in a deep conversation, sipping on coffee. Rick froze as he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“The first meeting is always the roughest,” a female voice stated.  
  
Rick turned around, nodding. Standing before him was the thirty-something brunette. “Yeah,” he agreed, shrugging.  
  
“How much time do you have under your belt?” she inquired, offering him a friendly smile.  
  
“Maybe eight hours,” Rick retorted, shoving his hands into his pockets.  
  
“I showed up to my first meeting still drunk,” the woman confessed, smiling sheepishly. “I’m Lauren,” she continued, offering Rick her right hand.  
  
He shook it, nodding. “Rick,” he replied.  
  
“So Rick, will I see you again here?”  
  
Rick shrugged. “I don’t know... I... I’m not crazy about all the god talk.”  
  
“I’m an atheist,” Lauren shrugged. “You don’t have to be religious to work the program. Personally, I choose not to work the steps. I come to meetings because it helps to know I’m not alone. Listening to other people and sharing when I want to share, that’s how it helps me. It can be whatever you want to make of it, if you want to get sober.”  
  
Rick nodded, considering. “How long have you been sober?”  
  
“Two years.”  
  
“Do you miss it?”  
  
The woman frowned. “Yes and no.”  
  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rick asked, brows furrowed.  
  
Lauren smirked, shaking her head. “It means whatever you want it to mean.”  
  
Rick rolled his eyes, aggravated by her lack of explanation. “Do you buy into all that ‘you need to bottom out’ crap?”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well,” Lauren started, swinging her handbag onto her shoulder, “given the way you look right now, honey, I think it’s safe to say that you might not be able to afford bottoming out any deeper. I’ve got to get to work. Maybe I’ll see you around, Rick.”

* * *

**Step 1: I admit that I am powerless over my addiction and that my life has become unmanageable**  
  
Two weeks had passed, and with it, another drinking binge. He’d kept himself relatively safe, however, choosing to lock himself in the garage. Still, the lack of other living beings hadn’t stopped him from taking out his rage on himself. Shallow cuts littered his arms and neck, the result of an afternoon of hallucinogens paired with heavy drinking, where he’d found himself scratching at his skin until he bled. Morty had intervened when he’d tried to slash his throat open with a shard of glass, at least. Rick’s lips twitched as he reflexively reached for his flask in his pocket, desperate to dull the guilt that memory conjured. _Morty_. It always came down to Morty, really. The unbearable guilt of knowing what he, Rick, was doing to the only person he’d ever cared for. Though Morty hadn’t said it, he knew, knew all too well the meaning behind his grandson’s forced smile and tear-rimmed eyes as he’d said goodbye to him that morning; _get yourself help. You need to stop before you go too far, before you kill yourself_. It had been this revelation that had forced Rick to admit defeat, leading him to the AA meeting room he’d sat in when he’d thought he couldn’t sink much lower. As was all too common in his life, he had been wrong; there were always new lows he was capable of hitting, a million new ways to destroy himself. He crossed his arms against his chest, eyes nervously darting around the room as stragglers made themselves comfortable in the chairs scattered across the room. This appeared to be a bigger meeting than the first he’d attended; there was still another fifteen minutes before it started, and already the room was filled with nearly two dozen bodies, anxiously milling about.  
  
Rick sat rigidly still as the meeting started, anxiety once more bubbling in his chest. _What am I even doing here? I can’t stop drinking. I’m not... Nothing will help. I need it._ Rick’s thoughts were interrupted as the meeting leader, Mike, cleared his throat.  
  
“How many of you here today are new to your journey and are in the process of working the first step?”  
  
Reluctantly, Rick raised his hand. He glanced around the room, feeling a twinge of relief at the vast number of hands raised; nearly half the room were new to AA. _This must be a beginner meeting. Way bigger turnout than the last time I was here_.  
  
“Would someone volunteer to read aloud the first step in the program?” Mike asked.  
  
Rick watched as a cute looking redhead hesitantly raised her hand, her arm trembling. “I’ll do it,” she offered, standing up.  
  
She glanced at Mike, her bright green eyes wide. “Do I need to.. Should I introduce myself first or?”  
  
“You don’t need to, but if you’d like to, feel free to start off with an introduction.”  
  
The redhead nodded. “Hi, I’m Amy. I’m an alcoholic. The um... The first step of AA is ‘I admit that I am powerless over alcohol and that my life has become unmanageable.’ Right?” she asked, glancing around the room for confirmation.  
  
“Yes. Exactly. Thank you for volunteering, Amy!”  
  
The redhead smiled weakly, lowering herself into her chair.  
  
“Would anyone care to share with the group what the first step means to you, or any questions you have about it?”  
  
A young man in his twenties raised his hand. He stood, running his fingers through spiky blonde locks. “Hi, I’m Matt. I’m an alcoholic. I get the whole idea of the first step but I uh... I don’t really feel like it applies to me. I admit that my life is unmanageable; I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. But... I feel like I drink because my life is unmanageable, not vice versa. You know?”  
  
Rick nodded his head, while others in the group murmured in agreement.  
  
Mike nodded. “Thank you for sharing, Matt. Oftentimes, the first steps is one of the hardest to complete. It’s difficult, admitting to ourselves and one another that we have a problem, and that it has made our lives unmanageable. Seeing as we have a large group of newcomers today, I would like to assign those of you working your first step an assignment,” he paused, observing the room. “I have a series of questions that I would like each of you to consider. You can answer as many or as few as you like. If you feel comfortable sharing today during the meeting, by all means, do so. If not, take your time and consider how you would like to answer these questions. Okay?”  
  
The group collectively nodded. Rick picked at his cuticles, drawing blood.  
  
“Alright, let’s review the questions. Feel free to write them down for later reflection, if you’d like,” Mike offered, clapping his hands.  
  
“Question one: Have you seriously damaged your relationships with other people because of your addictive behaviors? If so, list the relationships and how you damaged them.”  
  
Rick gritted his teeth, thoughts of his ex wife and his daughter crossing his mind. _I made Beverly hate me. Destroyed our marriage by just flat out bailing on it when she complained about my drinking and the drugs. Beth has abandonment issues. She’s terrified I’ll leave her, again. It’s the only reason she puts up with all of my shit... all of the shit that Bev wouldn’t tolerate._  
  
“Question two: Describe any memory lapses where you cannot account for where you were.”  
  
Rick glanced around the room, noting that most of the others were jotting the questions down on scraps of paper. _No point in doing so, you’re a genius... Don’t need to take notes._ He bit down on his lower lip, considering the question. _I can’t remember anything that happened on planet Squanch. All I remember is waking up. I don’t even know how long I was on planet for._  
  
“Question three: Describe any times that you cannot recall how you got home.”  
  
Rick swallowed, hard. _All of the time. I black out twice a week while traveling across the galaxy. Thank god for auto-pilot, am I right?_  
  
“Question four: Describe times and ways that you have significantly neglected or damaged relationships with your loved ones in order to indulge in your addictive behaviors or because you were recovering from your addictive behaviors.”  
  
_Because it was completely rational to leave your infant child and wife alone for weeks on end to go on drinking binges with your band mates. Or to lock yourself in your lab because you were too hungover to stand the shrill cry of your teething child. God I’m a lousy father, no wonder her mother hates me._  
  
“Question five: Can you pinpoint one time period in your life when your life began to become extremely unmanageable? If so, describe that period of time and what was happening.”  
  
_When I got fired from conducting research at the university. I guess no one was impressed by my showing up drunk or high on k-lax, screaming at my research assistants. Or passing out drunk at my desk during the one mandatory undergrad class I was supposed to teach. The deterioration of my marriage immediately followed that. I was out of the house and off-planet within six months._  
  
“And finally, question six: Describe attempts that you have made in the past to control your addictive behaviors.How successful have they been? Do these attempts show the powerlessness that you have over your addictive behaviors?”  
  
_I haven’t been able to go more than a few days without drinking in over two decades. I think that speaks for itself.... Rick frowned, tearing at his cuticles once more. He’s right... I guess I am... I’m powerless over it. I haven’t been the one in control for a long time, now._


End file.
